“See what?”
“You,” she breathed. “The real you. The you that the rest of the world sees.”
Her words caught me off guard, like the kind generosity of the stranger on the bus.
“We’ve only got an hour before the nursery opens. We should get these delivered if we’re gonna get back in time to keep Bastien off our scent. I mean, big life questions before I’ve even had morning coffee? That’s a bridge too far.” I shuttled past her, clutching the envelope to my chest.
Lucy’s words were still haunting me after pushing through the swinging doors of 303 Broad Street. I felt the edge of the envelope cut into my clammy palm, the memory of the man on the bus still hovering just out of my grasp before we reached the third floor, doors whooshing open to reveal a lone reception desk, a homemade sheet of paper printed to read:Certified Nursing Assistant Applications Drop Here
I frowned, glancing around, the little eyeball of a security camera the only other proof of human existence.
“Friendly,” Lucy sneered, poking her head around the desk, picking up the phone and holding it to her ear for a second before returning it to the cradle. “Had to confirm it worked. This place is suspicious, T.”
“Most of the applications are automated now.” I shoved my envelope into the nondescript box then turned with a shrug.
“Ready to get back to St. Mike’s?” Lucy clicked a pen she’d found on the desk.
“Sure, I thought we could grab some coffee first, though. There’s a little cafe that used to be around the corner from here when I was in high school. I’m kind of curious if it’s still there.”
“Sounds great.” Lucy’s face grew animated.
I suddenly couldn’t imagine my daily life without her either.
We’d bonded like sisters in the short time we’d been together, so incredibly different but somehow a perfect fit. I’d never had many close friendships before, but that was what I was coming to learn about them—when they worked, they worked, regardless of any sort of logical reasoning.
“So,” Lucy started a few minutes later, once we’d located what was now called Stanz Cafe, hot decaf latte in hand. “Gonna fill me in on that weird face you made when the guy passed you that book?”
I widened my eyes, voice box drying up to dust. “Face?”
She dropped an eyebrow, stirring her drink with a little puppy-faced stir stick that read Stanz, just for effect, I was sure. “Like you’d seen the ghost of a long-lost boyfriend or something.”
I shot my gaze to my own warm drink, letting the smell of cinnamon soften the blow of her words. “It’s not like that.” It was sort of like that. “I’m sorry I got weird. That book…” I paused, searching. “Someone I used to know loved that book.”
“Sounds…”
“Complicated.”
“Way the fuck more than complicated, I was gonna say.” She smiled brightly, taking a sip.
For more effect, I was sure of it.
I could never play it cool like she did. I ran from the hard questions because every single thing I felt read on my face like a map to my stupid broken heart.
“So?” she urged.
I huffed, sipping once myself before throwing her another bread crumb. “It was horrible. It was a terrible, awful time in my life, and I kick myself almost every single day that I let it continue for so long.”
Lucy’s eyes grew wider than the manhole covers on the street after I’d blurted my half confession. “Oh, sister. This is definitely way more than complicated.”
I nodded, catching her gaze before avoiding it again.
I wanted to share, wanted to be open, but this pain was too raw even for me to handle, and I had a lot of experience with handling pain.
“Sometimes saying the words out loud takes away their power.” Lucy stirred then sipped.
I narrowed my eyes. “What’s with this sage and wise stuff? Are you the second coming of Mary? This isn’t a virgin birth, is it?”
Lucy’s laugh shot across the four tiny walls of the coffee shop and directed attention our way.
